


Another espresso

by chiyokintou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffeeshop AU, Dates, I am mean about Thomas because he's on a date with Jean, M/M, Oneshot, SnK yaoi, coffee AU, gaaayyyy, jeanmarco, like coffeeshop au's are the best, marcojean - Freeform, marcojean coffee au, marcojean coffeeshop au, marcojean oneshot, snk, snk bxb, snk coffeeshop au, snk oneshot, snk shounen ai, srry thomas you get trashed in mj fanfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiyokintou/pseuds/chiyokintou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean's friend Reiner keeps setting him up on shitty dates at king's coffeeshop and Jean keept fucking them up.<br/>There's a nice thing about these shitty dates though; the freckled coffee boy who works at the coffee shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another espresso

> one

Every story is a big one.  Even the ones that have little to say.  Everything is a story.  Somewhere you realize that there are so many stories that yours is lucky to become a sentence. It doesn’t matter how big it was, in another story, yours is a sentence.  

In a ‘second love’ story, the first greater one will be nothing but  ‘It was a week after my divorce’ or ‘I missed her for a while but-’.  If it’s an autobiographical story your best friend wrote your story might be a sentence or two, maybe just ‘he told me everything that was wrong’  or just ‘she told me about her life’. If you’re very lucky you get a paragraph, but little are so lucky. Not even the president or shakespeare. They get nothing but  ‘it was the year obama became president’ or ‘we were just like Romeo and Juliet; foolish’

Well this was kind my situation. I was in the middle of a story,one I thought would end up grande, but the story just stopped and became a sentence in the new one. Well, that’s a lie, it’ ll be an intro for the greatest story.

So the old story?  Me trying to figure out if I was gay, getting set up on a date with some guy and getting really excited about it. Lots of texting, slowly getting a crush and looking in the mirror at least a thousand times before going to a shitty coffee shop. The guy was blond, bright blue eyes, cute too. I had seen him a few times and now Reiner- my friend- had set me up with him because I had been stupid enough to mention any fucking thing about queerness to your queerness.  Now it only seemed even more stupid as the guy didn’t show up.

 I had been waiting for about forty minutes without ordering anything. The guy behind the bar looked at me a lot, which made me fucking embarrassed, and I was highly considering walking away or buying something. Worst part was that I had already fucking told him I was waiting for someone, and now he was just judging me or something like that.  I awkwardly stared at my phone trying to avoid the damn big brown eyes and freckles. Glaring would be wrong, not only because I was the one at fault but also because he seemed like a nice guy. Nosey and a little bit eager, sure, that too.

“Sir-”  I shot up. I hadn’t even noticed the coffee guy getting so close, almost gave me a heart attack “erm.. have you changed your mind? I mean, a- about the coffee? Or tea or whatever-”

The hell had him more embarrassed than me. He could just go ‘Sorry your date ditched you but buy some expensive fucking coffee, you loser’  

“Just fuck me up with some double espresso”  I saw him flinch a little at my order but he took it anyway.  He hummed something unnecessarily kind before going off to take my order. Closing my eyes I sighed and wished I had never gone to the damned coffee shop. A foolish thought, I realized a lot later.

The guy came up to me with my order seconds later “mind if I sit?” he mumbled.

“Don’t you like.. fucking work here?”

He blushed “But you were waiting and something obviously held the other person up so-”

“sit”  He did as he was told. His handsome tan now replaced by a red cover and a stupid grin. As if he was fucking with me.  “I’m leaving as soon as I’ve thrown this down my throat though” I held up my espresso, to explain I was referring to the bitter liquid that tasted like absolute crap.

“No waiting anymore?”

“Well sherlock, I got ditched if you hadn’t noticed.”

“oh”  he looked down and awkwardly bit his lip  “well that sucks”

“tell me about it” I took one sip of the espresso, half of it gone at once. It was gross. Espresso is for the depressed people who don’t sleep. I fitted in that box perfectly fine but I still didn’t enjoy it. It’s like throwing awareness of your shitty life into yourself. The taste of a 26 years old single man who gets set up on shitty dates all the damn time.

The guy in front of me sure looked like cappuccino with some expensive fucking vanilla or some sweet bulshit like that thrown right in. One that comes with a small piece of perfect brownie and not half warm water.  

“I’m Marco by the way”

I nodded but ignored his hand “Jean”  

He seemed shocked by my rough unkindness, not scared away “Well Jean, I guess the drink is on me, because this girl-”

“Guy”

“Hm?”

“A guy ditched me”  

The guy- I mean Marco blushed furiously and looked down. The only thing I could think was ‘great, I scared him away’. Of course I knew that heteronormativity would be the reason my whole (love) life would keep sucking (dick). The whole straight thing hadn’t working for me either -mainly because I’m not attracted to girls- and now I would just scare away every guy I talked to. The second seemed like a more attractive option still. “In that case would-”  

The doorbell interrupted him.  A group of girls with blushes on their face and nice light jackets on walked in. They giggled as soon as they saw Marco and he smiled at them as if they were queens. I saw why they did it. He made me feel like I was more than I was too. It was a nice feeling, and the first time I really understood young girls.

 

That evening, after still putting money on the table and leaving without saying anything to the young saint, I got a text from Armin. It said something along the lines of ‘I am so sorry! Eren got mad and told me I couldn’t go and then I wanted to text you but he was really upset and so some stuff happened and yeah.. you know’  I didn’t but then again I did. Let’s just say I didn’t know what it was like, loving someone with a story,  I just knew what they did. It was great for them. I knew Eren and I hated him, but it was still very good for them.

Not for me, but this wasn’t anything new.

 

two  

It had been two weeks later when Reiner had set me up with a another guy. Another blond guy because Reiner apparently seemed to think I was into blondes or he lacked any dark haired contacts that weren’t Berthold (and neither one of us wanted me to go on a date with him).  ‘His name is Thomas and he’ll be waiting for you a King’s Coffee tomorrow 2 pm’. Well thank you for asking for my opinion on all this, Reiner, I thought. I still , after calling Reiner a few names I was perfectly good to go.

And so, a new story started, one with Thomas, whoever that was. We was built and blonde. Reminded me of a gayer version of Reiner and that was kind of disgusting. He smiled a lot and he pretended to be a gentleman and hold the door open for me. I hate that kind of stuff, the way he did it was unnatural and forced.  “So Jean huh? Pretty impressive name, is that french?”  In all honesty, I wanted someone to fuck me with a stick. Blame me for disliking a date within a few seconds, I’m not ashamed.

When we walked in I saw that the same freckled man was standing behind the counter. As soon as he saw me he grinned brightly, this made me look down to calm my body and mind. I was both embarrassed and swoon.  When I looked up and he was still looking I gave a halfhearted smile before sitting down in front of this Thomas guy.  

As soon as we sat he started talking, even while Marco came to take our orders, he just didn’ t stop. So I held up my hand- which finally stopped him-  calmly looked at this freckled coffee boy and mumbled “Another espresso shot, please”  and he knew. He just knew why I was taking another espresso and he knew that this was the only please was planning to say out loud for the rest of the day.

Thomas took a cold drink, an iced coffee. He told me about his education and his family, then asked me quite a lot of useless questions. I’m bad at answering useless questions. If I want to talk I will talk, and I most likely won’t talk about my damn dog. Maybe if he’d ask about something a little more sophisticated than the weather and the new clothes he bought I’ d be interested

When Marco came back with the drinks mine had a small note written on the napkin. ‘good luck’  it said, a cute drawing made with coffee right below. I smiled but didn’t dare to look at him. I still needed to pretend I was listening to this other man. Maybe make the best of it.

Let’s just say I didn’t. Somewhere I zoned myself out. There was something sounding like Miles Davis playing on the background. I was a big fan of jazz, not often did I listen to it myself because hiphop often got the best of me, but jazz was definitely great to me. Made me think of my home, where my mother would sway on it when she was younger. When the music stopped I glanced behind Thomas to see that - indeed- Marco was choosing the music.  “You know, this kind of music always gets me stressed too. It’s too messy for me, there’s no story no meaning”

Thomas had noticed I had been focussing on the music. He had gotten the wrong idea.  “Then what do you listen to?”

“I don’t know.. just what comes on the radio”  

I snorted uglily  “And that stuff does have a story? Sure maybe some songs do but the majority has little to say. If they do have something to say, it’s nothing but words written by someone else. A song with lyrics is only good when the lyrics could be a poem. A song without lyrics is good when it tells a story, because telling stories is hard without words”

“I like hearing words”

“I noticed.”  I licked my lip, wondering if I had to stop.  I was being too mean, I knew this too “But I haven’t heard a story, really”

I wondered if Marco could maybe tell me a story without words. He made me feel like he could. With different cups of coffee and songs that made me think of the past. “I see.. then what kind of story do you want?”

After that I stopped trying to explain myself and I decided to be kind until the damn date was over. I had to tell Reiner that I was going to stop coming to these damn dates.

Eventually (thank god)  we both finished our drinks and he asked if I wanted to get out of there. He seemed to be thinking about continuing the date elsewhere. I wasn’t.  “Actually, I promised the coffee guy” I pointed at Marco “I’d go to his when his shift ends, which is in like, no time at all”

Marco’s mouth hung open for a second, then he smiled “Yeah! Sorry, we haven’t hung out in a while so him ditching would be really-”

Thomas looked disappointed. I felt kind of bad for dragging the angelic man (Marco)  into my date mess but then again he had saved my ass like no other half stranger would.  “No, it’s fine, I see.. well I’ll be seeing you around Jean?”

“yeah sure”  I have never been one to avoid a shameless lie really.  

Both Marco and I stared at Thomas while he pulled on his autumn coat and then walked out of the coffee shop. We both waved at the same time, Marco with a smile and I with a frown. Thomas smiled too, I didn’t really know why.

“That the guy that ditched you?” Marco asked as soon as Thomas was gone.  

“Fuck no”

He handed me some normal coffee with a smile on his face. On the house again, he said before asking “so uhm,  it wasn’t nice?”

“I bet you heard half of the conversations”  Marco nodded “well then, I hope that question was rhetorical”

“Kind of was” I took the coffee he gave me and sipped it. We sat in silence. He watched the other two customers inside and sometimes the cleaning help would bring some clean glasses. Marco hummed along with the music, it was a french song, I knew it somewhere deep inside me, I couldn’t quite reach it yet.

“My friend Reiner sets me up on these dates” I explained, because I felt like I owed him an explanation, which I didn’t.  “I’m not really a people person though, tend to be a ‘self centered asshole’,  I mean, that’s what my friends say”

“I don’t think you are but if that’s true you shouldn’t change yourself for first dates.” Then he was silent for a bit, he seemed to be thinking. Eventually he spoke up “Reiner braun?”

“You bet”

Marco smiled “That explains a lot! I actually know him pretty well too.”

“Cool” I chuckled “Just make sure he never gets to set you up on a date.. at least I will make sure he doesn’t set me up again”

“You should take another chance, nothing bad can come out of it”

“I think this was pretty bad”

Marco grinned “But you got to talk to me”

“I guess, that was the best part of my date” I stood up and watched Marco swallow away words. The typical straight apologies.  I avoided them as much as possible.  “See you, Marco”

“yeah.. Jean” he sounded almost breathless. It was probably my imagination running wild.

 

 

three 

“I swear on berthold’s life that this is going to be the last fucking time, Jean. Please. I didn’t even plan it, this guy came to me. Heck I didn’t even know he was gay but told me he knew you. Jean this is the best fucking chance you ever get, I swear no one is as good as this one”

“You said that about the other two blondes too”

“He’s dark haired”

I thought for a second. About what Marco said, that nothing bad could come from it. Then again, with all the times I had dreamed about the damned freckled it would be rather awkward to have a date at king’s coffee again.  “I fucking hate you”

“Fuck yeah! You are so not going to regret this”

“I am already kind of regretting this”

Reiner slapped me on my back a little bit too hard “Good, I’ll tell him to meet you tomorrow at Survey’s”

“Not king’s?” shit shit, maybe his voice gave it away. His voice did sound kind of emotional and with Reiner knowing Marco there was a good chance he’d realize.

“Nope, Survey’s, 2 pm again”

 

I didn’t even bother to look nice. I hopped out of my bed about an half hour before date time and drank my coffee while having one cigarette. Soon I walked to the damn coffee shop Marco didn’t work in. I could have gone by car but everyone knows that parking is a fucking pain and I wasn’t planning on having my ‘I regret this day’ level on it’s highest before the date had even started. Believe me, at the time I didn’t need much to push me over the line.

I was tired. I had spend the day before reading useless articles on facebook, watching discovery channel and laying around doing a lot of nothing with some coffee. Coffee and nights make each other beautiful, coffee and nights make me terrible. That was just the way my life sounded.. yeah that quote was actually a pretty damn good one to describe me.

Depressing I know. Then again what do you expect from the single guy who talks to no one but.. let me see..  his nosey friend, the nosey’s friend boyfriend and oh hey, also the cute coffee guy he made exceptionally awkward with his queerness every time they spoke three sentences.  Oh wait no, I spoke to the dates I hated too.

By the time I came to Survey’s coffee I was about ten minutes late and I was just hoping the other guy was too. There were a few people sitting outside but no one was alone. So I walked inside. The inside of Survey’s coffee was nice and warm. I still liked king’s better but Survey’s looked a little bit older, browner. It smelled like grilled cheese or something.

I looked around for a guy with dark hair. There was only one. My insides shivered when I saw. Marco was sitting at a table next to the wall and close to the window. He was looking at me, a book laying next to him and a shy smile on his face.  I smiled back, a little bit embarrassed that Marco would once again be able to see my date get ruined. I mean, what are the odds?  “Hey Marco, you here too?”  I walked up to him.

“Yeah” Once again, his low voice seemed to lack the ability to express all his face gave away. Marco had that a lot, his voice often seemed to lack. Not in vibrations or beauty, just in what he’d let slip.  

“I believed Reiner again and had him set me up on another one of his damned dates, already regretting it. Like, my date isn’t even here yet.” I looked at my watch “and I’m like ten minutes late, being the shitty date I am”

Marco smiled “yeah, you are quite the shitty date”

“So what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for my shitty date to show up.. some friend of mine keeps trying to hook him up with everyone but he’s quite picky”

“haha, well-” I fell into silence. Marco was laughing at my face, I didn’t even know what face I was showing anymore “oh”  

Yeah oh, that’s quite the understatement. Why hadn’t he said before? Now I had kind of been an asshole already. I was late, I called the date shitty and Marco had literally watched all of my other dates fail because of me. Marco knew I was an asshole.

But Marco had asked for this. ‘I didn’t even plan it, this guy came to me. Heck I didn’t even know he was gay but told me he knew you. Jean this is the best fucking chance you ever get, I swear no one is as good as this one’  Reiner had literally said. Fuck I knew he should have believed Reiner when he said he was betting on Berthold’s life. This really was the best fucking chance I was ever going to get. Marco was literally too good for me, fuck.. I shouldn’t fuck it up. That’s easier said than done, though.

“I promise I won’t ditch you `or talk trash about jazz?”  Only then I realized I had been staring at Marco with this defensive and thoughtful frown on my face. Marco didn’t seem to mind all too much, he did seem insanely nervous.

“I know you won’t”  I sat down and I swear to god, I accidentally smiled a little too bright.  That must have ruined my whole ‘just out of bed and grumpy’ aesthetics but Marco seemed to light up a little bit. It was worth it.

I stared at Marco and I knew it. I kept telling myself ‘he’s straight’ and things like that, and only now I thought about the fact that maybe, or maybe definitely, I was the reason for my own failure. Because I told myself things like that, things like ‘It’s not possible because-’ or ‘I’m not worth them, and they aren’t worth me’ until there was no inbetween anymore. But Marco was gay, and Marco was into me to some extend.

Now I know a first date isn’t really the place and time to be realizing what your whole life is made of but Marco didn’t seem to mind that I could think better when my eyes rested on all the freckles spread over his face. It was like counting sheeps to fall asleep; counting the freckles to become sober.

“May I take your orders?”

Marco smiled sickeningly kind while mumbling “cafe mocha” and then, when he turned to me and I said “Cappuccino” he smiled even brighter, because he knew. He knew why I was ordering a cappuccino.

“No espresso today?” he asked when the girl left.

“I only drink one or more espresso’s when feeling particularly depressed or hopeless”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”

I laughed and nodded “please do, I’m really bad at this cute shit so I might not give away all I want to”

 

Turned out I kind of was good at being cute. When Marco told me that Ben l’oncle soul was his favourite artist I answered with “Je suis pas un superman , Loin de là , Juste moi, mes délires , Je n'ai rien d'autre à offrir”  and I had never seen another man smile that bright. It took the other about five minutes of awkward and amazed compliments before we could start a normal conversation again.I explained that I indeed was native in both English and French, because my mother was french. Then Marco told me about his family, his mother was born in Italy but never had he learned the language, nor had they returned to her place of birth. He told me that he was able to cook Italian food, and invited me to come over and eat it some time. I replied with  “Sure, then I’ll bring some wine and cheese, because.. yeah you know”

Somewhere around half past three pm, when we had been wrapped up in lovely conversations that ended in invitations for quite a while, we ordered seconds. Marco had left a tiny bit of coffee in his other cup and had asked me to do the same. I didn’t question it. When we had finished our seconds while talking about Jazz and my old rock, Marco started taking the spoons out of his coffee and he brushed them over the napkin. I smiled. He had drawn on a napkin with coffee before, when I had a date with Thomas.  “A shame I don’t have espresso though, it’s nice to draw lines, shadows and maybe your personality”  I laughed andI ordered an espresso while ignoring Marco’s complaints about how ‘he didn’t mean I had to do that’.  Somehow him drawing with coffee while I was talking was more comforting than any normal conversation. The whole weird thing didn’t even surprise me.

First he drew some cute things, bears and flowers and such,  but then soon after he took my espresso and threw half of it on the napkin. He wasn’t even making a mess, so careful. He formed the espresso into a man in suit. “That’s you” he mumbled. I laughed a little at the way the man came out of the espresso spot. It did seem like me, crawling out of an espresso spot every day.  He put some chocolate (his second order)  on the napkin and formed a new man. This one was completely coloured and only the lines were espresso.  “that’s you” I whispered while he nodded and turned his drawing to me. I looked at it carefully. The two men, us, were faced to each other. Both were smiling and one reached out his arm. Marco. Marco reached out his arm.  “This.. fuck, this is amazing Marco”

“I’m not very good with words and and this is a simple way to express small things” I thought about how he had written me ‘good luck’ when I had a date with thomas. How he had drawn something small just so that we would have had some kind of contact, just so I’d look up at him without the damn frown I had on my face that entire day.

“Half of that sentence was a lie because you are great at both but fuck, I’ll take it” Marco laughed a little “seriously, it’s great, Marco”

“So uhm.. you get what I mean with it?”

“I just see you and I in that drawing  but I dare to hope it means you want me to follow you into your artistic little world.. or you know, some shit like that”

Again, he chuckled “Something like that, so you want to get out of here?”

“fuck yeah”

I paid for the drinks, all of them, my dead end job was finally doing something to actually make me happy and that was great. So he let me.

It was raining a little bit, my face was burning. Marco was smiling, his cheeks red while the rest of his face stayed gorgeously tanned. I was probably full of red spots. Marco said he didn’t mind the cold weather, he liked a little bit of rain and warm jackets were way more comfortable to him than shirts. He loved summer heat too, and actually he also really liked spring breezes and flowers. I chuckled when he told me that “I will always complain about the weather”  

“That’s fine, I like listening to you complain” and man, was I thankful my face was already red from the sun because I had never thought that anyone in this whole damned world would ever tell me they loved listening to my complains. It was exactly what I needed to hear though. ‘Don’t kill your arrogance’ was just not something I had thought people would think.

“Thanks”

Marco then took my hand and pulled me into a calmer alley. His hand was warm and big compared to mine. He still walked slowly and listened to the silence. That doesn’t seem logical but if you ever meet Marco you’ll know what I mean. It’s listening to a mood, the wind, the birds, the not talking and the story playing out in your mind.  

His apartment was warm, nice and it smelled like incense. “You want a tour?” I told him that I didn’t really feel like it “Thank god, me neither”  he replied. And like that we fell down on his cough. It was a dark brown big couch, one he had probably slept on while reading a book a lot.

He sat down really close to me and after a while he put down his head onto my shoulder. “Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

“What?”

I turned so that my nose was against his hair “Why didn’t you tell me that you were gay?”

“I tried, first time people walked in and the second time you literally ran off” I tried to remember. He was right. “Also, I think this was more fun still”

“It’s embarrassing”

Marco laughed “It makes a great story.”

Well I guess that was true. It makes a better story than all the long ones. Not because we had been all romantic and perfect from the start or because we went together that well. It was a lovely story because of the way Marco wrote small notes in coffee, the way he looked up and caught me in his dark eyes, because of the way his honeyed voice, his words, his looks, his job and everything he did seemed to fit each other so perfectly. It was all warm, sweet and brown. Kind of like autumn. Jesus, even the season fitted the story.

“You are a great story” the words fell out of my mouth way too late, yet too quick for me to hold back.  

Marco smiled “Well that’s the first time anyone ever said that to me”

“But it’s all we wish for right? We all see our own stories but what we really long for is for others to see our story too, to become the main subject in someone else's story”

“I guess that’s about right, I had never really thought about it that way”

“Like.. if I were to write a story right now, those first dates would just be ‘the date was terrible but shit Marco, Marco, Marco’ because I now see you”

Marco smiled and snuggled into my neck “If I were to write a story about this moment, it would say:  ‘ my heart is beating really fast as Jean takes my face and kisses me really softly’ because it would be future te-”  Without thinking I did as he told me. I pushed my lips on his and felt him smile against my them, a very satisfying feeling. I deepened the kiss, Marco pulled my hair softly and I instantly regreted not washing it. We turned our heads, our noses bumped and my heart rate sped up. I took both of Marco’s cheeks in my hand and pulled away a little bit, kissing him again, our lips were still touching when we stopped to look at each other. Then he talked his lips move on mine “You failed, sir”

“What the fuck?” I pull away slightly.

“The story strictly said that ‘Jean kisses me softly΅

“Sorry mine didn’t”  He laughed and pushed me down onto the couch, then softly pushed his lips on mine. So soft it felt like he was stroking my lips with his. His hands caressed my cheek lovingly. Suddenly the whole ‘soft’ thing didn’t seem bad anymore, even though I had denied this side of me for quite a long time.

We spend the rest of the day like that. Marco cooked lasagna for me and then we sat talking for hours again. Sometimes we’d fall into silence and those silences would be filled up with kisses and hugging because we were silent anyway. We understood each other, it seemed, we fit together because Marco was soft and confident and I was embarrassing and rough. Marco a good cook, me a good eater. Marco a heavy sleeper, me a kicker. This we found out  when it was like half past 3 am and we were sitting in his kitchen with almost empty glasses of red wine. I have never known anything about wine but I had never tasted wine that lovely. It tasted so good because Marco laughed a lot when tipsy. When he laughed he would get wrinkles around his eyes and two or three bigger freckles would disappear in them. But eventually, when the wine was gone and Marco was hugging me a lot, I put Marco to bed and he asked me to come lie down with him. I did. I pulled out my jeans and then laid down next to him. When I turned around his half open eyes were focussed on me, as much as they could at least. He had a bright smile on his face.  “What?” I asked.

“I just remember you’d always come in at our shop, at first alone and you’d never notice me, and then eventually you came with guys and I was happy but worried at the same time. You being gay was great but these guys-”

“Weren’t you, that was kind of the problem”  Marco nodded and then I moved closer to him, kissed his forehead. “I wish you had been the first date and that this was the third”

“Kind of is that way, you said it yourself; the best part of the dates was the part you got to spend with me”   He kissed my jaw while mumbling this, whispered it in my ear and kissed behind it. I caught his lips somewhere. His hands traveled up my back and it left me shivering. I tried to unbutton his shirt but my lack of talent in this made that he eventually did both our shirts himself. Both shirtless, his breath suddenly seemed warmer as he rolled me over and sat on top of me. He looked at me as if he had never felt happier, kissed me on my mouth again, his hips making rounds against mine while we exchanged kisses and bites. I pulled on his hair when his hard on rubbed against me and his mouth was open against mine. He was breathing in my air and smirking cockily at my lustful look.

“Do you-”  These words were the yes to my eternal question so with them I pulled down my underwear and kissed him. He rubbed against me again, biting my neck and tucking away his underwear.

I sat up, him on top of me. I licked the thing closest to me;  his neck and nipple. He put our cocks together and carefully stroked them, this made me end up only breathing against his chest heavily. I uselessly moved against him trying to get more.

“fuck” He chuckled breathlessly at this understatement as I put my hand on his cock and bit his shoulder. Me being a biter was far from a surprise but he seemed to do anything but mind that.

His body shivered, tensed up and then seemed to fall against me as if broken. I smiled while breathing into his ear and giving him, probably the last two strokes.  “Together”  He moaned out. I chuckled into his neck, which was my answer to him stroking me because fuck, I was at my top too. “Kiss me”  Well this sure didn’t work out properly. It was a sloppy kiss. Licking into each others mouths with heavy breaths and aching cocks. Words became moans and achs became careless whimpers. “shit, fuck fuck hmp-”

I blushed. Our cum all over Marco’s hand and him still kindly smiling at him. No, not kindly. Satisfied, proud, cocky, glad. A great variation of those.  “Fuck sorry, that erm-”

“Don’t, Jean, it was fine, it was amazing actually”   He stood up to wash himself. I watching him walk away and replayed the quick and rough scene in my mind. He was nicely built, his ass full, round and covered in freckles. Unlike me he had no red and blue spots on his body, just the light coffee colour and the perfect amount of dark hair. While looking at him I could only think; fuck, how the hell did I get a man like that in such a short amount of time? How the hell did I make god’s gift want me?  I had done something really insanely right to deserve it because holy crap no one in the whole world was at his level. Except from maybe, beyonce or some queen but he’s gay so yeah.  

“Go to sleep Jean” I heard him mumble, only then I realized my stare - at his butt- had probably looked rather tired and dreamy.  “We’ve got nothing to do in the morning, we can sleep in, like.. if you’d like that, maybe that’s weird, I don’t know I haven’t had a good date in like-”

“Marco, it’s fine, I’d love to just lay here with you and repeat something alike tomorrow.”  The smile he gave me was one for in the history books. It was the warmest, most lovely thing I had ever seen in my entire life.  “Just fucking come here you big fluff”

He laughed and let himself fall over me, yes over me, and then draped himself around me “I’m a fluff, got a problem?”

“barely” he put his arms around me and hummed something that sounded utterly pleased.  It made me smile too and I wondered; when was the last time I fell asleep with a smile on my face?  His heat warmed me up, his bare chest made my heart beat in the right pace, his breath was slower than my usual one and it worked as meditation. While half asleep I sometimes suddenly became aware of the way his legs were in between mine and how his hair sweetly teased my knee pit and hummed low and happily. I reminded myself of a bumble bee on a flower. Most don’t like bees, most like flowers but whatever people says a bee would always be happy on a flower. People don’t really matter. It’s a silly way to explain it, I know.

When I woke up he was already awake. The room smelled like sweat and orgasm and I had honestly missed waking up to that smell. Sure we hadn’t gone all the way but that was fine, it was what seemed comfortable and natural. I just really fucking hoped we’d get there without me fucking everything up before we’d have the chance.

“Mornin’” I mumbled while pushing my head back into his chest, it was hard ripping my eyes away from his but thank god I managed.  

He kissed the top of my head and whispered “I love waking up like this”

“You’ve been awake for a while?”

“Kinda, it’s like twelve, I woke up around ten but snuggled for a bit.. you sleep with your mouth open a little bit”

“Asking the holy spirit to just pour some coffee into me before I have to talk to people”

“But look at you now”

I let my leg slide over his and caressed circles on his belly, just so I didn’t have to look at his gorgeously freckled smiling face.  “You drugged me, probably”

“How could I do that?”

“Hug me awake” And fuck. He laughed at me. He laughed loudly and almost hit my head, I smiled while looking away to hide my red face. “shut up man”

“No.. It’s just that.. I would me like a personal dealer if you want? Like a hug dealer..”

“Oh god you are a fucking cheese, fuck off”

“But seriou-” and the fucking phone rang. Mine, because it was Rod Stewart blasting some ‘if you want my body and you think I’m sexy, come on baby let me know’  through the room in the worst quality.  Marco laughed at how shitty it all was and then mumbled “I do”  

“Keep that to yourself, this might be my mum”

“Say hi from me”

 I rolled my eyes at Marco and then sighed heavily at the called  Reiner  my phone actually dared to say.  I picked up and put it on speaker “s’ Jean”

 _“Eyo macho man, Reiner here, how did your date go yesterday?”_  Fuck Marco was laughing.

“I think it went alright, like I think he still likes me?”

“Oh shut up, Jean”  Marco mumbled while hitting me.

 _“HOLY SHIT THAT WAS MARCO WASN’T IT,  HOLYSHIT ALRIGHT OKAY SORRY TO INTERRUPT YOU!”_  

“It’s fine!” Marco yelled, to which I mumbled a soft “no it’s not?”

_“I’ll hang up you two can continue what you two were doing!”_

“Waking up?”

_“Call it what you will”_

“Reiner I swea-” And he hung up. Marco was laughing at me while standing up, leaving me alone in his- quite big- bed.  “what’re you doing?”

“Going to make you coffee and breakfast”

“I swear it’s like you read my mind”

“It’s because I’ve known you for so long. Like what, two weeks, that’s longer than Romeo and Juliet”  Marco bend down and I reached up. Our noses brushed against each other before our lips crushed together. This was the only way I’d let him wipe the smile he brought me off my face. He had to open my mouth, he had to caress my lips and softly let me know what was better than just this happiness. “Coffee”

“Right, yeah, I’ll let you go”

“Not for too long”

“deal”

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think?  
> please  
> pleas  
> plss  
> pls
> 
> For alike: 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/5073319


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